


You’re the One That I Want

by LuxKen27



Category: Kids Incorporated
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-03
Updated: 2012-09-06
Packaged: 2017-11-13 12:34:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuxKen27/pseuds/LuxKen27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Season 1.]  Mickey didn’t realize just how much Gloria had come to mean to him until it was almost too late.  A giftfic for GloriaFan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I’ve Done Everything for You

**Author's Note:**

> _Author’s Note_ : Written for GloriaFan, as a (much belated) gift for his fandom_stocking. It’s been a long time coming, but I hope this fic proves to be worth the wait =) 
> 
> Further author's notes & references can be found [here](http://luxken27.dreamwidth.org/tag/*chapterfic:+ki:+the+one+that+i+want).
> 
>  **DISCLAIMER:** The Kids Incorporated concept, storyline, and characters are © 1984 – 1993 Thomas Lynch/Gary Biller/MGM Television/20th Century Fox Home Entertainment/Disney Channel. Any resemblance to any person currently living or deceased is unintended (i.e., I am writing about the characters, not the actors who portray them). No money is being made from the creation of this material. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

**I.  
 _I’ve Done Everything for You_**

The day after Gloria joined Kids Incorporated, all of the other band members quit.

It blindsided Mickey, of course.

He arrived at the Garage for their afternoon practice, only to find Danny and Chris sitting on the curb outside, wearing matching sullen expressions. His heart started to thud heavily in his chest when he spotted them, and he slowed his step. “Hey, guys – what’s going on?” he called out, unable to completely smooth the trepidation out of his voice.

Danny and Chris exchanged a long look. “We’re quitting the band,” Danny announced, rising to his full height and crossing his arms over his chest. Chris hurriedly followed, mirroring his best friend’s movements.

Mickey gaped at them. “ _What_?!” he yelped. “ _Why_?!”

“You know we never wanted a _girl_ in our band,” Chris sneered. “And it’s not like Gloria even asked – she just horned in on us, on stage, and declared herself a member!” He huffed a peeved sigh. “Whatever happened to the rest of us having a say?”

Mickey pressed his fists into his hips. “But she’s the reason we even _have_ a regular gig, or did you guys forget that?” he returned. 

“We would’ve won that audition, even without her,” Danny grumbled, frowning furiously.

Mickey eyed the two of them for a long moment, tension rising fast and thick in the air around them. He wasn’t about to give up on the band he’d worked so long and hard to put together, but he truly didn’t understand why Danny and Chris were suddenly opposed to Gloria’s joining them. Danny especially – he’d taken Gloria to their school dance that same evening, and seemed to be having the time of his life with her.

Not that Mickey was watching them or anything…

“I thought you guys liked Gloria,” he said, lifting a brow as he looked pointedly at Danny.

The blond-haired boy flushed under Mickey’s scrutiny. “Yeah, well, you were wrong,” he shot back hotly, the defensive brace of his arms tightening across his chest.

Chris rolled his eyes. “I _never_ liked her,” he declared. “I was opposed from the start.”

“Hey guys,” piped up a new voice. “What’s going on?”

The trio turned, noticing their erstwhile drummer approaching, his expression lit with confusion as he gazed at them.

“We’re quitting the band, TJ,” Chris informed him, grabbing Danny’s arm. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“Wait!” Mickey cried, making a move to block their path. “Don’t I at least deserve to know the _real_ reason you’re leaving?”

“It’s like we told you,” Danny insisted, scowling fiercely as he glared at Mickey. “Girls are a real drag.” He and Chris pushed past Mickey and started in the opposite direction from the Garage, neither one looking back as they stiffly walked away.

“Yikes,” TJ breathed, watching them go. “I guess Danny’s really mad that Gloria wouldn’t let him kiss her after the dance.”

Mickey’s jaw dropped as he faced his last remaining male bandmate. “What?” he groused, his eyes narrowing. “ _That_ ’s what this is about?”

TJ shrugged. “I guess,” he replied carelessly. “He’s had a thing for her for ages, and he really put the moves on her. Didn’t you notice that he hardly left her side at the dance?”

Mickey’s mouth snapped shut. “Why would I notice something like that?” he queried coolly, feeling a traitorous flush creeping up the back of his neck. 

TJ snorted. “I guess you were the only one, then,” he responded. “It was all over the dance. I heard it from Dwayne, who heard from Jennifer that Danny tried to kiss her when he took her home, and Gloria totally shot him down. Danny was pretty upset, and I guess he still is.”

 _Sounds like she has good taste to me_ , Mickey thought, his expression turning wry. Still, he couldn’t believe Chris and Danny would be so petty as to quit the band over something like this. “Jerks,” he muttered under his breath.

TJ eyed him curiously. “Now what are we going to do?” he asked. “We’re supposed to play our first show tonight at the Malt Shop!”

Mickey’s heart sank. “I don’t know,” he admitted with a frustrated sigh. “I guess we’ll have to cancel the gig.”

“ _Cancel_?!” TJ squeaked in a horrified voice. “But won’t they fire us if we don’t show up?”

“Probably,” Mickey snapped back irritably, closing his arms across his chest. “Though that’d make Mike happy,” he grumbled as an afterthought. “He only wanted Gloria anyway.”

“Then tell _her_ to sing tonight,” TJ suggested, visibly hurt by Mickey’s harsh reply to his innocent question. “By herself.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “What good’ll that do?” he asked sarcastically. “She’s a member of _our_ band.”

TJ narrowed a glare at him. “You know, I’m beginning to see why Danny and Chris wanted out,” he returned, clasping his drumsticks in both hands. “You used to be pretty cool, Mickey, but ever since Gloria inserted herself into _our band_ – you know, the one _we started_ , _without her_? All you’ve done is defend her. Why does she matter more than the rest of us?”

“I didn’t say that,” Mickey shot back, working hard to control his temper. He took a deep breath. “Look, what good would it do for only her to play the gig? It should be all of us, or none of us. We’re a band, we stick together!” 

“Two singers and drummer? That’s not a band.” TJ shook his head. “Face it, Mickey – Kids Incorporated is over.” His shoulders fell as he turned, tucking his drumsticks into his back pocket as he started to walk away.

“Wait a minute!” Mickey exclaimed, calling after him. “Where are you going?”

TJ looked back. “To find Danny and Chris,” he replied, a sad note in his voice. “Maybe we can be a _real_ band again.”

Mickey could only stare after TJ as he turned away, continuing down the sidewalk at a sedated pace.

Mickey whirled around, forming and raising a fist and slamming it down against the brick façade of the Garage. Pain instantly lanced his hand, but he paid it no heed. He felt completely, totally, utterly _gutted_ at the loss of his bandmates, all for such dumb reasons. They’d worked so long and hard to get this far – and now, on the brink of real success, everyone else had deserted him.

Tears welled behind his eyes. He leaned against the wall, cradling his aching fist against his chest.

“Mickey!” cried a breathless voice.

He straightened, still holding his hand, and suppressed his tears as a range of footsteps pounded towards him.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” the voice continued, thin and reedy under heavy huffs of breath, “but I thought I’d never get away from my piano teacher. She made me stay and play the same piece _five times_.” A hand touched his shoulder. “…Mickey?”

He swallowed hard, forcing his mouth to form some semblance of a smile as he turned to look at his new companion. “Hi, Gloria,” he greeted her.

Her eyes were wide as she gazed at him, her breath finally recovering. “What’s wrong?” she asked after a moment. “Why are you standing out here?” She noticed the hand he still held protectively, her hand shifting from his shoulder to reach out for it. “Are you okay?”

He pulled away from her. “Yeah,” he replied, opening his hand and shaking it gently. The remnants of the pain pulsated up the length of his arm, but he shrugged it off with another forced smile. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Gloria furrowed her brow. “I thought we had band practice at four,” she murmured, a slight blush rising to her cheeks as she glanced down at her watch. “Was I wrong? Am I late?”

“No,” Mickey sighed. “We were supposed to rehearse this afternoon.” His eyes fell away from her, fixating to a point on the sidewalk just past her sneakers.

“So what’s the problem?” Gloria asked pleasantly. She looked around. “Where’s everybody else?”

“Gone,” Mickey murmured.

Gloria sucked in a breath. “Already?” she asked sheepishly. “So I _was_ late – I’m sorry, I’m still trying to balance my schedule.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s not that. I mean – they’re gone for good.”

Gloria’s jaw dropped. “ _What_?!” she cried, well and truly shocked by the news. “What happened?!”

Mickey shrugged, lowering himself to sit on the curb. He tried to think fast – no way was he going to tell her that _she_ was the reason his stupid bandmates had abandoned them. He wouldn’t know what to do if she started crying, and he didn’t want the chance to find out. “They’re all moving,” he said abruptly.

Gloria sat beside him, clasping her arms around her knees. “ _All_ of them?” she questioned softly.

He glanced at her, taking in her puzzled expression. Her curly brown hair framed her pretty face, her eyes wide with concern – and skepticism. His stomach churned, but still, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her the truth.

Finally, he nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah,” he replied. “All of them.”

Gloria’s gaze fell to her lap. “Whoa,” she intoned. “This really sucks.”

“Yeah,” Mickey agreed glumly. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

“What _we’re_ gonna do,” she corrected him lightly. “And I _do_ know – we’re going to start another band.”

Mickey swiveled towards her in disbelief. “What? With who?”

Gloria chewed on her lower lip, looking thoughtful. “I don’t know,” she admitted, “but I’m sure we can find someone.” She offered him a hopeful smile. “So many people wanted to be in Kids Incorporated – it wasn’t just me.”

Mickey, however, still felt glum. “I don’t know,” he sighed. “It’s really hard to find the right people, and besides…” He shrugged. “We have that gig at the Malt Shop – well, we _did_.”

“So we’ll give it up,” she replied, laying a tentative hand on his arm. “But we’ll find another one. The Malt Shop isn’t the only place in town looking for a band, you know.”

He frowned. “No, I didn’t know,” he murmured. “Where else is there to play, where actual kids hang out?”

Gloria shrugged. “You know, they’re restoring the old Coco Club,” she mused.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Yeah,” he sighed, pushing himself to his feet and folding his arms over his chest. “But I doubt they’ll let kids play there.”

“So we’ll find someplace else!” Gloria suggested brightly, rising as well. “Come _on_ , Mickey, don’t give up!” she cajoled. “You’re too good to _not_ have a band.”

Mickey felt heartened by her belief in him. _Who knows, he thought, maybe it won’t be so hard to put together another group_ … “Okay,” he relented with a smile, “we can give it a shot. But – who can we get to sing with us?”

The two of them lost themselves in thought, though Mickey kept drawing blanks. He’d invited Chris and Danny and TJ to be in his band precisely because they were the best musicians he knew. He glanced covertly at Gloria, hoping that she’d have better luck coming up with viable alternatives.

“I’ve got it,” she announced, startling him. “Renee and Stacy.”

Mickey’s heart sank. “Those pushy sisters?” he snorted skeptically.

Gloria fixed him with a teasing glare. “Oh, come on Mickey, they’re pretty good,” she coaxed with a smile. “Besides, what could it hurt to at least ask them?”

“You mean, besides my reputation?” he replied. “Me, with a group of girls? I’d never live it down!”

Gloria narrowed her eyes, clasping her hands on her hips as she gave him a calculating stare.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Mickey relented, throwing his hands up in defeat. “We can at least _consider_ them.”

Gloria grinned, clasping her hands together with delight.

Mickey tried not to let her display of triumph bother him. “Do either of them play any instruments?” he asked pointedly.

That brought her back down to earth. “Well, no,” she admitted, rushing to add, “But _we_ do – you play the guitar, right? And I play piano. We could teach them!”

That idea appealed to him about as much as eating ground glass. “We’d still need a drummer,” he countered.

Gloria seemed so absolutely enchanted with their burgeoning roster that she didn’t even notice the sour note in his voice. “So we’ll find another guy!” she laughed. “Come on, Mickey, have a little faith.” Her eyes sparkled. “Kids Incorporated will rise again, better than ever!”

He wished he had half her certainty. “If you say so…” he muttered, suppressing another urge to roll his eyes.

~*~

Amazingly, the auditions went better than he expected – at least as far as singers went.

Gloria brought the sisters to the Garage that following Monday afternoon. Renee and Stacy trailed behind her, their eyes wide with awe as they took in the cavernous practice space. Mickey had summoned every shred of patience as the girls descended the steps; the best he could hope for, he considered, was for them to not be totally tone deaf.

Boy, was he surprised.

Renee went first, standing in the middle of the space, clutching her microphone between clammy hands and watching Gloria anxiously as the older girl turned on the tape she’d brought along. She absolutely transformed under the music, however, her anxiety melting away as she swayed along with the peppy rhythm of her chosen track – “Mickey,” by Toni Basil.

Even Mickey had to crack a smile at this calculated ploy. 

“Pretty good, Renee,” he acknowledged appreciatively when she swooped to a finish.

She beamed triumphantly at him before pressing the microphone into her younger sister’s hands and prancing out of the spotlight.

Little blond-haired, blue-eyed Stacy had none of her sister’s apprehension. She was all smiles as she powered through Pat Benatar’s “Hit Me with Your Best Shot,” with a little bit of help on the harmony from Gloria.

“Not bad, Stace,” he declared, earning a squeal of delight from the eight-year-old.

“So does this mean we get to be in your band?” Renee asked, as direct as ever.

Mickey’s eyes swept across the space, meeting Gloria’s pleading expression above the girls’ heads. He still wasn’t too enthused with the idea of bringing in two kids with no musical experience at all, but he had to admit, they were good. Better than he’d expected, even, by a long shot.

He drew a deep breath. “Yeah, sure, why not?” he replied nonchalantly, only to find himself buried beneath the high-pitched screeches of delight at his decision. Gloria, Renee, and Stacy hugged each other, bouncing around in a tiny circle in the middle of their practice space as they chattered excitedly, and then pounced on him, winding their arms tightly around him and trapping him in their girlish glee.

Not for the first time did Mickey wonder if he’d made the right choice.

~*~

He and the girls met at the Garage every afternoon that week, and the week after. They’d practice with their records instead of live instruments, concentrating on blending their voices together (and getting the lyrics right). There were some minor squabbles over who would sing lead, but otherwise, it was a mostly pleasant experience.

Mickey knew they’d get nowhere without an actual band, however – and it seemed Gloria realized the same thing.

She burst into rehearsal one afternoon, all smiles as she slid into her place on an overturned crate near the stairs. “You guys are never going to believe this!” she exclaimed, hardly able to sit still.

“What?” Mickey asked absently, thumbing through his records, looking for something they hadn’t already worked with.

“You know the P*lace? That soda shop across from the Coco Club?” Gloria bubbled.

“Sure,” Renee replied, tucking her hair behind her ears as she sat back on the piano bench. “What about it?”

Gloria’s eyes sparkled. “Well,” she continued excitedly, “I was just there, and guess what!”

“What?” Mickey inquired again, pulling down a box with his dad’s old cassette tapes and rifling through it.

“They have a stage! And instruments, and everything!” Gloria enthused. “There were even some kids there, fooling around on the instruments.” She sent Mickey a meaningful look. “Some of them were pretty good.”

Mickey shrugged. “So?” he queried blandly, handing a few tapes to Stacy and pointing her in the direction of the tape deck.

“ _So_?!” Gloria echoed incredulously. “So we could totally join up with them, and have a real, live band to back us up!”

Mickey hesitated. “I don’t know,” he hedged. “Do we even know who these kids are? I don’t want just _anybody_ in my band.”

The three girls exchanged a look. “ _Your_ band?” they drawled in unison, settling hands on hips in a simultaneous display of disapproval.

Mickey offered them a weak smile. “Our band,” he corrected himself.

Gloria relaxed her guard. “I recognized some of the kids from school,” she told him. “You know, the P*lace isn’t that far from our school – we should check it out one day.”

“They have a stage!” Stacy breathed, clasping her hands together, her voice full of awe. “Imagine being able to perform on an actual _stage_!”

“Even just for fun,” Renee agreed with a nod. 

Gloria grinned at them. “So are we in agreement, girls?” she asked. “We’ll go over there one afternoon?”

“Definitely!” Renee and Stacy chorused excitedly.

“Hey!” Mickey cried indignantly, shooting up from his seat. “Don’t I get a say?”

“Sure you do,” Gloria chided him sweetly. “You can decide when we go over there to meet those other kids!”

~*~

Mickey wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic as the girls about going to the P*lace. He was worried about running into Danny and Chris and TJ, for one thing, and having his whole story about them moving out of town totally blown. Though he wasn’t completely sold on the idea of him and three girls as a viable music group, he wasn’t ready to lose yet another band in the space of two weeks.

Finally, after much pleading and cajoling – and numerous “reminder” notes from Gloria, stuck in the vents of his locker at school – he led the girls through the double glass doors of the P*lace one afternoon. He was pleasantly surprised to see the front room filled with kids, not only from school, but also from the neighborhood. They were clustered together in groups: some were doing homework at the tables, some were clamoring for ice cream and other treats at the counter, and some were up on the stage, playing around with the instruments.

Mickey set off across the room, the girls at his heels, and tried to listen to the low hum of music under the din of conversation that surrounded him. He drew to a halt at the stage steps, eyeing each kid on stage in turn.

“Hi,” he said by way of introduction.

The music immediately stopped. “Hi,” the boy on bass replied hesitantly.

Mickey climbed the steps, the heels of his motorcycle boots landing heavily on the stage. “You guys ever thought of playing a band?” he asked casually, surveying the group as a whole. 

“Hey, I know you!” cried the boy on the drum kit, his eyes lighting with recognition. “Aren’t you Mickey, with the Kids Incorporated band?”

Mickey felt himself puff up a little bit at being recognized. “Yeah, that’s me,” he acknowledged, surprised but pleased when the others began to whisper eagerly amongst themselves. He glanced over his shoulder to find three excited smiles on the faces of his bandmates as well.

He turned back to the musicians, shifting his weight to one side and clasping his hands on his hips. “Any of you ever thought about playing in a band?” he asked again, with a bit more authority in his voice.

“With you?” squeaked the girl on keyboards.

“With us,” Mickey replied, gesturing to Gloria, Renee, and Stacy.

The bassist furrowed his brow. “What happened to Kids Incorporated?” he asked in a puzzled voice.

“We _are_ Kids Incorporated,” Renee huffed indignantly.

“Version two,” Gloria added swiftly, clasping Renee’s shoulders and giving her a patient look.

“Oh,” the drummer mused. “Well, I’m Mario, and that’s Aaron,” he added, pointing to the bassist, “and that’s Shanice.” He nodded to the girl on keyboards. “We play together sometimes up here, just for fun, you know.”

“Sure,” Mickey nodded in response. “This is Gloria, and Renee, and Stacy,” he continued, pointing to each girl in turn. “Would you guys be willing to do a number with us?”

The musicians exchanged a glance, coming to a quick agreement. “Sure,” Mario replied. “What did you have in mind?”

Mickey hastily conferred with the girls. “You guys know ‘Jump,’ by Van Halen?” he asked, spying a red guitar next to the keyboards.

Mario grinned. “Sure,” he returned, twirling a drumstick as he watched Mickey pick the guitar up from its stand. “Count us off, Mickey.”

Mickey slid the guitar strap over his head, giving the instrument an experimental strum. Gloria, Renee, and Stacy found a cache of microphones just off stage and brought them out, joining Mickey to form a semicircle near the edge of the stage, the four of them facing the musicians already there.

“One – two – one, two, three, four!” Mickey cried, launching them into the popular rock anthem. Shanice struck the first chords on her keyboard, followed quickly by Mario on the drums, and Aaron completing the rhythm section on bass. Mickey began to sing as he brought in the guitar part, the girls falling into harmony at the chorus. The group’s hesitation melted away as they advanced into the song; they were in full rock-out mode by the guitar solo following the second verse. All of them joined in the reprise to the chorus, sharing excited grins and they began to move with the beat. They ended with a flourish, seven sets of hands shooting up in the air.

“That was amazing!” Stacy cried, clasping her microphone to her chest.

“Totally awesome,” Gloria agreed.

“You guys are pretty good,” Mickey said with a smile, nodding at Mario.

“ _Pretty_ good?” boomed a voice from the side of the stage.

Mickey and the girls whirled around to see the counter guy standing there, an approving cast to his expression. “That was more than pretty good,” the man continued, climbing the side steps. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a band on this stage, much less one with any degree of talent.”

“Gee, thanks, Mr. Paulson!” Shanice exclaimed. When she saw Mickey and the girls exchanging confused looks, she explained: “Mr. Paulson is the owner of the P*lace. He also owns all of this amazing equipment!”

“That rarely, if ever, is used,” Mr. Paulson added with a sad sigh. He walked over to Mickey. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before,” he observed, sticking out his hand. “What do you call yourselves?”

“We’re Kids Incorporated,” Mickey replied, taking the owner’s hand and giving it a firm shake.

“Well, Kids Incorporated,” Mr. Paulson said, acknowledging everyone on stage in turn, “how would you like to have a regular afternoon gig, right here at the P*lace?”

Seven jaws dropped at the same time. “Are you serious?!” Renee breathed incredulously.

Mr. Paulson laughed. “Well, of course I’m serious! This stage hasn’t seen the likes of you in twenty, thirty years. It’s a shame to let it sit here, unused. Besides,” he added with a knowing smile, “I like a little music with my ice cream.”

Gloria, Renee, and Stacy rushed up to Mickey with such sudden intensity that he thought they were going to hug him again.

“Can you believe this?!” Stacy cried. “Oh, please, Mickey, say yes!”

“Please, _please_ ,” Renee pleaded, clasping her hands together over her microphone. “To the band and everything!”

Gloria simply smiled at him. “Told ya we’d get another gig,” she said playfully, looping her arm through his.

He couldn’t help but smile back. “Okay,” he murmured, holding her gaze for a long moment before looking at the others. He clasped the owner’s hand again. “I say yes – to the band, and the gig!”


	2. Don’t Talk to Strangers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Author's Note:_ This chapter contains scenes from Episode 1x1, “[Leader of the Pack](http://youtu.be/uw9nqNLbPvw).”

**II.  
 _Don’t Talk to Strangers_**

It was only a few months later that the rich kid swept into town, threatening to steal Kids Incorporated – and Gloria – away from him.

Mickey was only cautiously optimistic about the future of their group, but the over the summer, the band flourished beyond all expectation. They had some of the usual growing pains – squabbles about song choice and musical arrangement and the rehearsal schedule – but they survived them all, thanks in part to Gloria’s cheerful presence. Long after Mickey had lost all patience with the others, she was still calm and pleasant, making everyone feel heard and considered, careful to make sure they all had a say in group decisions. 

She had even gone above and beyond the call of duty, discovering a shy kid with a voice of gold by happenstance, and convincing him to come to the Garage one afternoon for an impromptu audition. This kid – who called himself the Kid – blew them all away with his ability to sing a catalogue of songs on cue, and was eagerly invited to join the band. Even Mickey welcomed him without hesitation on that first day, happy to finally have another boy to help even out their numbers.

The others acknowledged him as their leader, but even he knew he hadn’t really done it all by himself. Grudging through he was to openly share credit for the band’s success, Mickey had to admit that without Gloria, version two of Kids Incorporated might very well have fallen apart just as quickly as version one had.

Their gig at the P*lace kept them in steady work over the summer; Mr. Paulson had even started giving them a small portion of the soda fountain’s profits, telling them they’d earned it by bringing in so many new customers. Between that allowance and the occasional fundraiser, the band was able to buy matching onstage outfits and take care of their borrowed equipment.

By the time the new school year rolled around, Kids Incorporated had turned the P*lace into _the_ afterschool neighborhood hangout. Anyone who was _anyone_ showed up to see and be seen, to enjoy the show and the treats from the soda fountain.

That’s how the rich kid entered their lives.

Mickey first noticed him one afternoon when the P*lace was bustling with business. Mr. Paulson was drowning in the sea of orders at the counter, leaving the rest of the front room abuzz with growing chaos. It was making Mickey feel unusually nervous; they’d played in front of large crowds before, but none with this sort of restless energy. His nerves were compounded with growing irritation over the sudden disappearance of one of his bandmates, which was only further holding up the works.

Finally, Mickey spotted her out in the crowd. “Renee!” he hissed, stepping close to the edge of the stage. “Come on!”

Renee didn’t seem to hear him, instead gazing lovingly at the impeccably dressed blond-haired boy to her right. She was hardly the only one; he was surrounded by a gaggle of giggling girls, each competing for his attention in turn. Mr. Suave whispered something into one girl’s ear, causing her to blush madly; he sent a dazzling smile in another’s direction, earning a dreamy sigh in response.

Mickey frowned as he watched the new kid hold court. He might not have recognized the boy, but he certainly knew some of those girls – they’d spent most of the summer draped all over _him_ , hanging onto _his_ every word, granting _him_ those girlish giggles and dreamy sighs whenever he looked in their direction.

He didn’t appreciate the sudden competition. Or Renee’s adulation.

“Renee,” he tried again, clutching the neck of his guitar as he leaned off stage. “Let’s go – we need to start before we lose the crowd!”

Renee made a big show of heaving a sigh and rolling her eyes, but stood up from the table after sending Mr. Suave another longing glance. He seemed to appreciate it, smiling back at her, watching her as she climbed the stage steps. His gaze rose to meet Mickey’s, lighting up with a sparkle of challenge.

Mickey narrowed his eyes in response, before turning to follow Renee as she picked up her microphone from a makeshift riser near the drum kit in the back.

“Renee,” he intoned lowly, “who is that kid?”

Renee gave him a self-satisfied look as she tested her microphone. “Just met him today,” she replied. “His name is Christian.” She smiled. “Isn’t that so romantic?”

“That his name is Christian?” Mickey balked, staring at her like she’d grown another head.

“Well,” Gloria cut in, reaching around Renee for her microphone, “ _I_ think he’s cute.”

Mickey bristled. “Yes,” he returned, “but is he talented?”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond, nodding instead to Mario to count them off. The band launched into their first song, a rollicking, fast-paced number, quickly gaining the attention of the crowd. The tension onstage dissipated as the band members played and sang and danced, moving smoothly from one number to the next. It was almost effortless; their months of hard work – the blood, sweat, and tears of endless rehearsals and summer experiments – were starting to pay off.

Just as the Kid had really come out of his shell thanks to their performances, Gloria, too, had blossomed; she could command the stage like no other with her vivacious energy and spirit. She moved easily around the stage now, weaving through the musicians, hanging out with the younger kids, drawing all eyes on her – even Mickey’s. He enjoyed her nearby presence, her increasingly flirtatious moves on and around him, and normally, he’d lose himself in it – in _all_ of it, basking in the flow of being on stage and the center of attention.

But that afternoon, he couldn’t. He was all too aware of Christian’s presence in the audience, of his shady little smirk as he watched the band’s performance, jotting down notes on a little pad all the while. Mickey felt unnerved by his constant scrutiny, and by the way his bandmates seemed to notice it as well. Gloria and Renee and Stacy would dance with him, smiling at him as they sang, but their attention would always inevitably swing out into the audience – to _him_ – to see if he was watching them.

Mickey felt relieved when he noticed Christian stand up and leave during their last number. He didn’t know where he was going, nor did he care; all he knew was that new kid was gone, no longer stealing the attention of his audience _or_ his bandmates. Gradually, Mickey relaxed into their final song, a pretty duet he’d worked up with Gloria. He let down his guard, turning his attention solely to her, and the music, and the way she grinned at him as she swayed close – 

– only to be abruptly brought out of the moment by the blinding flash of a camera, followed by another, and another.

Mickey and Gloria both looked out into the audience as their song drew to a close; Gloria grinned when she realized it was Christian who had been taking the pictures, but Mickey scowled.

 _Just what does this kid want?_ he asked himself, keeping a close eye on him as the band took their bows to a thunderous standing ovation. 

Even as the others in the audience began to wander away, Christian lingered, watching the group as they packed up their instruments and broke down their stage setup. He approached the stage with his camera and his notebook, sending Renee – and then Gloria – a captivating smile.

“Nice show,” he complimented them, his eyes lingering for a long moment on the older girl.

“Thanks,” Gloria replied, a slight flush rising to her cheeks as she returned his smile.

“Yeah, thanks,” Renee echoed, waving to him even after he’d turned away, strolling out of the P*lace with a confident swagger.

Mickey observed the entire exchange from the wings, feeling his earlier irritation flare up all over again. The last thing the band needed was a distraction, especially in the form of such an obnoxious interloper. And the last thing _he_ wanted was to listen to the girls gush endlessly about him.

He lifted his chin as he marched out of the wings. “Great performances, guys,” he announced, picking up his guitar case. “See you over at the Garage for rehearsal.”

Gloria gave him a surprised look. “What? We’re finished for today.”

Mickey shrugged, descending the stage steps in short order. “No, we still have to rehearse some more,” he replied with authority. “There’s a couple new numbers I want to try.”

Gloria frowned, following him down the stairs. “But we were going to rehearse tomorrow,” she reminded him, sitting at one of the nearby tables.

He scowled. “ _We can do that, too_ ,” he returned, unable to keep his annoyance from his voice. He caught sight of Renee as the others dutifully trooped down the steps and turned to face her, eyeing her critically.

“Renee,” he intoned with a weary sigh, “you have _got_ to get your hair cut. It’ll look even better for the band.”

Renee shot him a withering stare. “What about looking better for _me_?” she challenged, drawing her hair over one shoulder and running her fingers through it. “I like my hair just the way it is.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Oh, _come on_ , Renee, don’t give me a hard time!” he argued. “It’s _for the band_.”

Renee simply scowled at him, but he paid her no heed; instead, he looked to her left, frowning fiercely when he noticed Stacy’s white sneakers.

“Stacy, you know you were supposed to wear your _blue_ shoes,” he complained. “Where are they?”

She stood up from her seat on the steps and shrugged. “They’re with Ziggy,” she replied.

Mickey simply stared at her. “And who’s Ziggy?” he wanted to know.

Stacy squinted up at him. “My pet frog,” she explained. “He was living in my sneaker – I didn’t want to take away his home!”

Renee grabbed her sister’s arms and tugged her down into a seat at her table. “I’ve seen those shoes, Stace,” she noted wryly. “I think Ziggy would be very grateful if you did.”

“ _Frogs_ ,” Mickey huffed under his breath, skeptical of Stacy’s excuse for breaking the look of their matching outfits. “Renee, will you make sure she wears the _right_ clothes next time?”

Renee opened her mouth to protest, but it was Gloria who spoke next. “Excuse me,” she interrupted, standing once more, “I didn’t know we had to take _orders_ in this band.”

Mickey glanced at her. “I’m _not_ giving orders!” he protested.

“Then what exactly is it you’re doing?” the Kid asked, standing on the lowest stage step and crossing his arms over his chest.

Mickey shrugged. “I’m just telling you what to do.” _For your own good_ , he added silently.

The Kid rolled his eyes. “That sounds like ordering to me,” he observed.

“Yeah,” Gloria agreed, her hands on her hips, “me, too.”

“Me, too,” Renee rushed to add, still smarting over the order to mind her sister’s wardrobe.

Stacy sighed, resting her chin in her hand. “That goes for me, too,” she added solemnly.

Mickey stared disbelievingly at them all in turn. “Well, _somebody_ ’s got to take charge!” he insisted.

“ _Somebody_ could be a little more subtle and ask,” Gloria pointed out.

“No kidding,” the Kid muttered, shaking his head with disapproval. “If I wanted to be told what to do, I would’ve just stayed with my teachers at school!”

“Get serious, you guys!” Mickey cried, throwing his hands in the air. “You _know_ you wouldn’t be anywhere without me to lead you. You _know_ I know best, so please – just do what I tell you, without complaining, if that’s possible!”

Gloria’s jaw dropped. “Where is _this_ coming from?!” she demanded, her hands forming fists and digging into her hips. “We’re all equals here, just in case you’ve forgotten. We make decisions _together_.”

Mickey rolled his eyes heavenward, working hard to control his temper. “And maybe we’d get even further if you’d just let me take charge,” he muttered. “ _I’m_ the one with experience here.”

“Pfft,” the Kid spat. “Forget you! I don’t need this.” He stomped down the stairs. “I’m not here to support your ego.”

“Me, neither,” Renee agreed, standing up from her table and grabbing her little sister’s arm.

Stacy looked startled by the sudden turn in conversation. “Yeah, me either,” she echoed, glancing from her sister to Mickey and back again.

“Fine!” Mickey shouted, frustrated with their obstinacy. “Go, if you want to! I don’t like dealing with _children_ anyway.” A fine shimmer of rage rumbled through him. “If that’s what you want, then it’s fine with me!”

“ _Fine_!” Gloria cried, sidling over to the others, creating a united front with them against their erstwhile leader. “Let’s go, you guys!”

Mickey whirled around, not willing to give them the satisfaction of having to watch them leave. _They’ll be back_ , he assured himself, crossing his arms over his chest. _When they calm down, they’ll realize I’m right. It’s been_ my _band from the start, so of course I know what’s best! They need me more than I need them._

Or so he hoped.

~*~

Mickey walked into at the Garage the next afternoon for rehearsal, surprised to find himself the only one there. A quick glance at his watch told him that he wasn’t late – or early, for that matter.

He frowned. Even through all their previous disputes, they’d never missed rehearsal before. Not even Mario or Shanice or Aaron were there, and they’d had nothing to do with the fight the day before – they hadn’t even been there when it happened!

 _Maybe they’re just trying to make me sweat_ , he considered, walking over to the old purple and pink piano in the corner. _Gloria’s always been big on making a show to prove her point…_ He ran his fingers along the keys.

“I’ll just call their bluff,” he murmured to himself. “If they want me, they know where to find me.”  
.  
.  
.  
Half an hour later, it was quite clear to him that he was no longer wanted.

And he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Angry, that his bandmates were avoiding him. Frustrated, that they’d let something so petty split up the group they’d all worked so hard on. Sorrowful, that _he_ was the one who’d alienated them, even though he was only trying to do what was best for them.

They were more than just a band – over the course of the summer, they’d all become friends. _Good_ friends. And it hurt him to think that maybe none of them wanted to be his friend anymore.

He sighed, pushing his hands through his hair. _Maybe they’re ready to give up on me, but I’m not ready to give up on them_ , he vowed silently. Determination scored his spine as he stood up, balling his hands into fists. _We’re friends, dammit, and I don’t just let friends go – not like this._

With swift resolve, he left the Garage, marching down the street towards the P*lace, the only place he could think of that they’d all congregate, given that they were all in different grades and thus, went to different schools. It was their home away from home, along with every other kid in the neighborhood.

He crossed his fingers as he approached the familiar blue-framed double glass doors. If they weren’t here, he’d have to track them all down separately, a much more arduous task – and one he’d have little patience for.

He lifted his brows when he noticed the HELP WANTED sign in the window. _That’s new_ , he mused to himself as he pressed through the doors. _I hope everything’s okay with the owner._

“Hey, Mr. Paulson,” he called out pleasantly, spotting the man behind the counter, a crate of wet glasses in front of him. “What’s with the sign?”

The older man smiled as Mickey settled himself at the counter. “Thanks to you and the rest of Kids Incorporated, I’ve got more work than I can handle,” Mr. Paulson explained, picking up a glass and toweling it dry. “Being behind the counter isn’t my favorite task in the world, but I could never justify the expense of hiring a soda jerk – until now.” He eyed Mickey. “I don’t suppose you know of anyone who’s looking for a job?”

“Sorry,” Mickey replied with a shrug. “Say,” he continued casually after a moment, “speaking of the band – have you seen them around lately?”

Mr. Paulson appeared surprised by Mickey’s question. “Well, yes,” he sputtered. “They were all here, maybe an hour ago? With that new kid, whatshisname…” He frowned, trying to draw the name from memory. He snapped his fingers as it came to him. “Oh, yes, Christian! Nice guy – he bought them all lunch. Pretty generous.”

Mickey blanched, his stomach sinking like a stone as he absorbed this bit of news.

“Come to think of it…” Mr. Paulson peered curiously at him. “I was kinda surprised that you weren’t with them. You guys have been thick as thieves these last few months. Everything okay, Mick?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Mickey replied, offering him a weak smile. He slid from his stool. “I guess I just missed them. Well – I’ll keep looking!”

Mr. Paulson nodded, picking up another glass and wiping it down with his towel. “So will I,” he murmured.

Mickey took a cursory glance around the front room before leaving, his tread noticeably heavier as he exited the P*lace. It was one thing for his friends to still be upset and not talking to him, but another entirely if they were not talking to him _and_ hanging around with that obnoxious rich kid, Christian. It was bad enough that he’d stolen some of Mickey’s giggly admirers – was he after the band, too?

He found his answers not far from the P*lace, running nearly smack dab into Mr. Suave – or, more to the point, Mr. Suave’s things. He had a van full of stuff parked in the middle of the street, its contents spilling over: equipment, clothes, instruments of all kinds. The other members of Kids Incorporated were crowded around, deep in conversation with Christian, who stood in the middle of it all while his chauffer offered item after item to the other kids.

Mickey crept closer, careful to stay in the shadows of the nearby buildings as their conversation met his ears.

“Okay,” Christian announced haughtily, looking far more satisfied than he had any right to be, in Mickey’s opinion. “You’ve seen the goods – wanna buy?”

The Kid gazed up at him. “On a scale of amazing to zowie,” he replied, “I say yes.”

“Yeah,” Renee nodded in agreement.

“Aren’t we jumping into this pretty fast?” Gloria cut in, sending a concerned look at her younger bandmates. “I mean, let’s take some time to think it over, okay?”

“Why?” Renee asked peevishly, pressing her hands into her hips. “We’re a band without a lead, and he’s a lead without a band – it’s _perfect_!”

“It’s good karma,” Stacy put in.

“I don’t know, it’s kinda quick,” Gloria hedged, looking skeptical. “We hardly _know_ this guy.”

“Well, hey, we can fix that up later on, maybe with a movie and some pizza?” Christian offered with a leer, approaching Gloria and draping his arm across her shoulders. “I have a tape deck and a TV in the back of the van.”

Mickey felt his blood boil at the sight, and he pressed out of the shadows to intervene.

Gloria looked just as unimpressed as Mickey felt, pushing Christian’s arm away. “I don’t think so,” she said coolly, narrowing her eyes at him. “I never mix singing and dating.”

“That’s the first smart thing you’ve said all day,” Mickey drawled, moving into their semicircle and coming to a halt next to Gloria.

She turned to look at him. “For a _micro_ second, I thought Mickey _talked_ to us!” she gasped sarcastically. “But then I realized that _generals_ don’t talk to ordinary soldiers like us.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, pressing his hands together. “You’re not joining up with _this_ guy, are you?” he intoned disbelievingly.

Christian’s eyes ran down the length of him and back. “Who is this shorthair?” he asked disdainfully.

“Just someone that we _used_ to know,” Renee replied pointedly, moving closer to Mickey and crossing her arms defiantly over her chest.

“Yeah,” Stacy piped up, “a real _bad_ seed.” She strolled over to him, giving him an innocent smile. “ _Hi_ , Mickey,” she greeted him cloyingly.

Mickey paid her no heed, continuing to gaze at Gloria – and Christian, who hadn’t relented from her side.

“Go find a cave,” the blonde boy declared dismissively. “I’m working on something big here!”

Mickey narrowed his eyes. “He may be good, but he’s not for you,” he proclaimed, directing his words to Gloria. “What does he know about organizing a group? He doesn’t have the experience I have.”

Gloria pressed her hands into the pockets of her cardigan. “Are you asking us back, Mick, is that it?” she inquired, her tone more serious than not.

Mickey, however, was still feeling the sting of her caustic greeting. “Ask _you_ back?” he shot back incredulously. “ _No way_! You’d just quit on me again.”

Renee stared at him in disbelief. “Only because you were acting like a total lizard!” she cried disgustedly.

“Hey,” Christian cut in, “take a chill! I’m trying to get a band together here.” He gave Mickey another dismissive look, shaking his head and rolling his eyes, as if he couldn’t believe Mickey had the nerve to breathe the same air as him. “They should be with talent, not…”

He allowed his train of thought to trail off, like he couldn’t even summon words to describe his so-called rival. 

Mickey bristled at the implication, narrowing his eyes as he stared down his opponent. “Oh yeah?” he intoned coolly, taking a step closer.

“Yeah,” Christian challenged, taking a step forward himself.

 _So he does want my band_ , Mickey thought angrily to himself. “Big words for a nerd job,” he snorted derisively, his hands curling and flexing into fists at his side.

“You wanna do something about it?” Christian returned, looking down his nose at him.

“Hey,” the Kid interjected, pressing himself between the two of them. “This ain’t cool!”

Mickey ignored him, sidestepping the boy. “Yeah, I’ll do something,” he replied, shoving Christian’s shoulder. _Nobody takes my band from me without a fight_.

Christian shoved Mickey back with both hands, hard enough to force him back a few paces. “Make your move,” he dared.

Mickey raised his fists, more than willing to lay down the hurt in order to defend his pride.

Christian raised his, already bouncing on the balls of his feet, swaying forward to bait his prey.

“STOP IT!” Gloria yelled with a piercing cry, running up to the both of them and forcing her way between them. “Just _stop it_ , both of you!” She pushed them apart. “We’re not going to be in a band with either of you if you keep acting like this!” She trembled beneath the fury in her voice, spearing first Christian, and then Mickey, with glares of disapproval.

“We’re _people_ ,” she continued, her eyes lingering on Mickey’s, “not spoils of war.” She looked back at Renee, Stacy, and the Kid, huddled together to one side and watching the confrontation with wide eyes.

“Come on, you guys,” she said, her tone softening as she reached for them. She held Renee’s and Stacy’s hands protectively, tossing another impudent stare at the arguing boys. “Why don’t you get back to us when you decide to grow up?”

With that, she turned on her heel, leading the younger kids away.

Mickey watched them go, feeling the fight drain out of his body. _Smooth, Mickey_ , he admonished himself silently, dropping his hands to his sides. _Real smooth_.

“Well, c’mon, hotshot,” Christian needled, lifting his fists in the air once more and throwing a practice swing. “Let’s see if you have what it takes.”

Mickey spared Christian a withering glare. “Grow up,” he shot back, rolling his eyes and shaking his head as he took off after his bandmates.

He found them at the Garage, gathered in a tight clutch near the tape deck by the stairs.

“I have something to say,” he announced, garnering their attention. He swallowed hard as he crossed the room towards them, his heart throbbing against his ribs as he felt the weight of their anxious stares.

“Look, I acted like an oddjob before,” he began. “I’m sorta sorry, you know? I guess it _did_ sound like I was ordering everybody.” His shoulders tugged down into a sheepish shrug. “And anyway…this guy can probably do more things for you than I can. He’s got the money and the stuff, so maybe you should just tie up with him.”

Gloria shook her head. “After all that, he’s _still_ trying to tell us what to do,” she intoned, the corners of her lips curving into a smile.

Mickey frowned. Here he was, offering himself up on the altar of dignity by apologizing, and she was – _mocking_ him for it?

That hurt more than he cared to admit.

“Listen, Mickey,” she said. “Christian might have the money – ”

“ – and the equipment – ” Renee cut in.

“ – and the driver – ” Stacy added.

“ – and tickets to the Michael _Jackson_ tour! – ” the Kid wailed dramatically.

“ – but he doesn’t have what _you_ have,” Gloria continued with a patient smile. “You’re our friend, and you care about us. Maybe a little _too_ much,” she added wryly. She tucked her arm into his. “Kids Incorporated might’ve been _your_ idea, but it’s _our_ band. We’ve all made it what it is – a family.” 

The others nodded somberly in agreement.

“You don’t turn your back on family,” Gloria said resolutely, “not even when somebody strays.”

Mickey’s heart warmed at her kindness. “Would you guys like to come back to – I mean, could _I_ come back to you guys?” he asked, his eyes sweeping over the lot of them. “Can we be Kids Incorporated again?”

Gloria, Renee, Stacy, and the Kid all exchanged a long look, before turning back to him with matching grins. “ _Yeah_!” they shouted in unison, ambushing him in a group hug.

Mickey didn’t protest, however – he wrapped his arms around all of them, knowing all too well how close he came to losing them for good.


	3. Human Touch

**III.  
 _Human Touch_**

He wasn’t sure when his feelings for her began to change, but suddenly, every time she came near him, she managed to catch him off guard.

“Mickey!”

Mickey slammed his locker shut and whirled around. “Hey, Gloria,” he returned, pressing himself back against his locker door.

She gave him a strange look, clutching her books closer to her chest as she regarded him. “Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something,” she said, rocking back on her heels. “Um, maybe before rehearsal this afternoon?”

Mickey’s heart started to flutter. She wanted to talk? To _him_? Alone?

Gloria furrowed her brow. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.

He finally managed to wipe the cobwebs from his brain. “Yeah, yeah,” he replied in a rush, reaching for his backpack and hastily shoving the book he was holding into it. “I – guess I just have a lot on my mind.”

Gloria sighed. “So do I,” she admitted. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

Stay cool, he told himself, hooking the straps of his backpack over his shoulders. _You know how to flirt with girls. Gloria’s just another girl…_

But she wasn’t – and that was the problem.

The late bell rang, jarring him from his reverie. “C’mon,” he said, nodding his head towards the exit. “We can talk while we walk.”

She smiled, falling into step with him as they weaved through the halls of the school, following their classmates out the front door of the building. They walked along in companionable silence for a few blocks; all the while, Mickey tortured himself with the possibilities of why she wanted to talk to him.

Alone.

Finally, as they turned the last corner towards the Garage, Gloria spoke. “I’m worried about Stacy,” she told him. “Haven’t you noticed that she’s been moping around lately?”

Mickey shrugged. “Not really,” he confessed. “Everyone seems to have the post-Christmas blues. What makes you so sure _that’s_ not what’s up with her?”

Gloria rolled her eyes, shaking her head as a wry smile rose to her lips. “Boys,” she muttered under her breath.

Mickey furrowed his brow. “Isn’t Stacy a _little_ young to be worried about boys?” he intoned skeptically. “She’s only eight!”

Gloria laughed. “I had crushes when I was eight,” she quipped. “And she’s nine, by the way. But that’s _not_ what I meant.”

Mickey slowed, narrowing his eyes as he regarded her. “Okay, I’m confused,” he said, a note of defensiveness in his tone.

She grinned. “Of course you are,” she teased, touching his temple playfully. “You’re a thick-headed boy!”

He resisted the urge to catch her hand in his as it fell away, instead pulling on the straps of his backpack. “Thanks for the compliment,” he deadpanned. “So are you going to tell me what’s wrong with Stacy, or just leave me in wonder in my thick-headed state?”

She gave him a sympathetic look as she grasped his arm. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her,” she said, sliding her hand into the crook of his elbow as they continued down the sidewalk. “That’s why I’m worried. She doesn’t usually keep things to herself like this.”

Mickey considered her words. “I know what you mean,” he contended. “We always know when she and Renee are having a fight.”

“Or when she and the Kid are up to something,” Gloria added. “But lately, she’s just kept to herself.”

He shrugged. “Well, whatever it is, we’ll get to the bottom of it,” he assured her.

She smiled, her expression soft with gratitude as she turned to him. “Thanks,” she murmured, giving him a squeeze. He felt the warmth of her touch even through his winter coat, a pleasant, electric sensation spreading down the length of his arm. He held her gaze for as long as he dared, enjoying the sensation of being so close to her. 

The moment was shattered when Stacy huffed past them, throwing open the door to the Garage with a mighty slam before disappearing inside.

Gloria hurried after her without a word, leaving Mickey on the sidewalk by himself, feeling strangely disappointed. He couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason why, though he recognized the feeling all too well. Lately, he’d been feeling this way a _lot_ when their concerts ended, because it also meant an end to their onstage flirtation. They’d always been a bit playful with each other, from the very first time Gloria had stormed the stage and inadvertently inserted herself in the band, but lately, it had seemed more intense, almost magnetic. 

He was fairly certain she felt it, too, if only because of the way she lingered by his side sometimes, a beat longer than she used to.

He sighed. _Please don’t let it be all in my head_ , he pleaded silently, catching the Garage door before it closed and heaving it open once more. He’d never been so confused about whether or not a girl liked him before….

…but then again, none of those girls had ever been Gloria.

He found her with Stacy, sitting on a couple of overturned crates near the stairs. Gloria held the younger girl’s hand in her own, her expression full of sympathy and concern as she gazed at her.

“What’s going on?” Mickey asked, dropping his backpack to the ground near the tape deck.

Stacy looked up at him from beneath a fringe of blonde hair. “I don’t know what to get Renee for her birthday,” she sighed.

Mickey frowned. _That_ ’s what she was so upset about? “So? What’s the problem?”

Tears welled behind Stacy’s eyes, and her lips began to wobble. “The _problem_ ,” she wailed, “is that every year, Renee and I give each other the _perfect present_ on our birthdays, and this year, she’s been dropping some big hints that whatever she got for me is pretty amazing.” Her gaze fell to her lap. “I don’t know how I’m going to top it.”

Gloria gave her hand another supportive squeeze. “Well,” she tried, “what did you give her last year?”

Stacy shrugged. “My mom helped me pick out a locket,” she replied with a sniffle. “But this year, I wanted to get her something by myself. Only I don’t have very much money, or really any idea what she’d like.”

Mickey considered her dilemma. “What about the new Springsteen album?” he suggested, knowing that Renee was probably the Boss’s biggest fan.

Stacy shook her head. “She already has it,” she said dejectedly. “She even bought it with her own money!”

“Okay,” Mickey returned, “so you’ll get her something different. How about Michael Jackson’s latest? Or Madonna? Pat Benatar? Rick Springfield?”

Gloria shot him a wry look.

“No,” Stacy sighed. “I want to give her something more than just an album. But I don’t know.” She kicked her feet out in front of her, letting her legs swing back and forth as she thought. “Sometimes trying to figure out what to give her is like digging for gold – I don’t even know where to start!”

Gloria bolted upright, the wisp of an idea lighting up her eyes. “That’s it!” she declared.

Mickey and Stacy stared at her with equally confused expressions. “What’s it?” he ventured.

“A treasure hunt!” she exclaimed, turning to Stacy with a happy smile. “That’s what you can give her – what _we_ can give her! Think about it, Stace – instead of buying her the ‘perfect’ present, we can give her a bunch of little presents, like pieces of buried treasure!”

“We can hide the gifts around the P*lace, or around the neighborhood,” Gloria continued, “and then take Renee on a treasure hunt on the day of her birthday!”

“With a treasure map?” Stacy asked, warming up to the idea.

Gloria nodded enthusiastically. “And clues,” she added.

“Uh, there’s just one problem here,” Mickey interjected. “You’ve gone from _one_ gift to a _bunch_ of gifts.”

Gloria looked at him. “So? Little gifts don’t have to be perfect.”

Stacy’s smile waned. “No, but they _do_ cost a lot of money,” she said despondently.

Gloria thought fast. “We’ll help you,” she suggested. “The whole band can pitch in – and we can be creative! We don’t have to get her anything expensive, just something fun.” She glanced up at Mickey. “And this can be _our_ gift to Renee, from _all_ of us.”

Mickey gave her a speculative nod. “Sounds pretty good to me.”

Gloria beamed at him before turning back to their youngest bandmate. “Come on, Stacy, what do you say?” she asked. “Can we help you give Renee the perfect present this year?”

Stacy looked from Gloria to Mickey and back again. “Okay,” she agreed with a smile. She threw her arms around Gloria’s neck. “Thank you!”

“Hey!” piped up a new voice. The trio looked up to see the Kid standing at the head of the stairs gazing down at them curiously. “What’s going on?”

“We think we know what we’re going to give Renee for her birthday,” Mickey informed him as he skipped down the steps.

“Yeah,” Gloria nodded. She opened her mouth to continue, only to hear the door creak open again, with Renee appearing on the landing above. “We’ll fill you in after rehearsal,” she whispered to him.

“Okay,” the Kid whispered back with a smile.

~*~

After nine months of almost daily rehearsals, Kids Incorporated had their practice schedule down to a science. Usually their afternoons flew by, but on that day, time seemed to stand still. Finally, six o’clock rolled around, and the band called it an evening.

As luck would have it, Renee was one of the first to leave. She and Mario had been assigned a science project together, and they decided to walk over to his house to start working on it. Aaron and Shanice were the next to go, leaving Mickey, Gloria, Stacy, and the Kid to hash out their birthday surprise.

The others quickly filled the Kid in on their earlier conversation, and he was completely gung-ho about the idea of designing a treasure hunt. He suggested they find a map of the neighborhood so that they could decide where to hide their treasures; as the four of them combed through the interminable cardboard boxes stashed in the corners of the Garage, he found an old piece of parchment paper, big and blank and beginning to yellow with age.

“This can be our treasure map!” he declared, to instant nods of agreement from his bandmates.

Mickey finally unearthed an old map of the neighborhood. The others gathered around him, poring over the map and shouting out suggestions for hiding places. They finally narrowed it down to five or six potential spots, before turning back to the question of what, exactly, their treasure was going to be.

“What can we give Renee that won’t cost very much money?” Gloria mused, settling back on her crate near the old piano. The map was spread out on the piano bench, the four of them clustered around it.

The Kid shrugged. “It’s too bad we can’t give her presents she’s already received,” he joked.

Suddenly, Mickey was struck with an idea. “Wait a minute,” he breathed. “That’s it!”

The Kid furrowed his brow. “ _What_ ’s it?” he asked skeptically.

“We _can_ give her presents she’s already received!” Mickey insisted. He gazed at each of his friends in turn. “Think about it. Renee’s turning twelve, right? That’s a milestone birthday – so why don’t we re-gift her things she received on her _other_ milestone birthdays?”

Stacy frowned. “Like what?” she wanted to know.

“Like – her first doll,” Gloria suggested, cottoning onto Mickey’s idea. “Or her first book!”

“Exactly!” Mickey said, nodding in agreement. “Stacy, you know when she received these things, right?”

“I guess so,” Stacy replied uncertainly. “But how are we going to get these things from her, without her finding out?”

Gloria’s smile turned playful. “I think that’s the perfect job for you two,” she said, nodding to Stacy and the Kid. “After all, you guys are the masters of mischief. I’m sure you can think of something.”

They smiled at each other. “Definitely,” they chorused, their eyes sparkling with possibilities.

“And Mickey,” Gloria continued, turning her attention to him. “You should draw the map. You’re the most artistically inclined of us.”

He turned the idea over in his mind. “Okay,” he finally agreed. “But what are you going to do?”

“I’ll write the clues,” she proposed. “Maybe like riddles, or something like that.”

The Kid began to wriggle like an excited puppy. “Ooh, this is going to be so much fun!” he exclaimed. “C’mon, Stace, let’s figure out how we’re going to break into your sister’s room.”

“It _is_ heavily secured,” Stacy quipped as the two of them stood up and headed for the stairs.  
Gloria grinned as she watched them leave, the two chatting animatedly as they disappeared through the Garage door. Mickey found himself smiling as well, though his attention was focused solely on Gloria. He couldn’t help but marvel at her ability to think through such an ambitious idea and pull it all together with record speed. He wished he could be half as thoughtful as she was…although at that very moment, her compassion was just about the last thing he found himself admiring about her.

Heat blossomed from his core as he gazed at her, his eyes tracing the counters of her features: her pretty brown eyes, framed by long lashes; the crest of her cheekbone; the line of her jaw. Even as she sat in profile to him, he noticed the fullness of her lips, still colored with a hint of her lipstick. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, drawing his eyes to her long, curly tresses, swept so effortlessly over her shoulders. He became aware of how fast his heart was beating against his ribs, how shallow his breath had become in his lungs, how much he wanted to reach out and touch her – 

“Those two,” she laughed, facing him once more, her eyes dancing with mirth. “They’re something else, aren’t they?”

He blinked, swallowing hard as he realized that she expected him to say something. “Uh, yeah,” he choked out, quickly looking down at the map on the bench between them, smoothing his suddenly clammy hands across the page.

“Listen, Mickey,” Gloria said thoughtfully, drawing his attention back to her, “I think you have the biggest job of us all. What if I helped you with the map? Maybe you could bring it to school tomorrow, and we could work on it at lunch?”

He blinked again, momentarily forgetting how to speak. Was she asking him to have lunch with her?

 _Yes_ , he decided. _Yes, she is_. “Okay,” he agreed. “We can firm up the places where we’re going to hide the treasure.”

“Sure,” she nodded, granting him a soft smile. She glanced down at her watch. “Oh, I better go,” she cried in a rush, shooting to her feet. “My mother’s going to wonder what happened to me!”

“Tomorrow, then?” he mused, watching her as she gathered her belongings.

She smiled, mounting the first step of the staircase. “See you then,” she said as she climbed the stairs. She stopped on the landing, smiling at him again before turning back and disappearing out the door.

~*~

“I can’t believe we managed to get all this stuff,” the Kid marveled a few weeks later. He was sitting on the floor of the Garage, along with Stacy, Mickey, and Gloria, helping them put the final touches on Renee’s surprise birthday treasure hunt, which was set for the next day.

“ _I_ can’t believe it, either,” Gloria intoned wryly, picking up a soft-furred teddy bear and cradling it in the old white bed sheet in her lap. She carefully wrapped it up, pinning the sheet closed with a large safety pin. “I have it hand it to you two, masters of mischief. You really _are_ the best!”

“Why thank you,” the Kid replied grandly, carefully peeling a piece of tape from the dispenser and laying it smooth and flat on the old newspaper he’d used to wrap up Renee’s first book.

“Don’t you want to know how we did it?” Stacy asked giddily, already sounding a bit punchy, though it was only eight thirty in the evening.

Mickey looked up from his own wrapping job. “I don’t think so, Stace,” he told her sardonically, shooting a covert glance in Gloria’s direction. “We don’t want to be complicit in any of you guys’ crimes.”

Stacy simply shrugged in response, turning back to the pair of ballet shoes she was wrapping up. “Done!” she proclaimed, tying a bit of string at both ends of her paper. The wrapped shoes looked like a giant piece of candy.

“Great!” Gloria said with a smile. “Here, make sure the clues are attached to the right gifts.” She passed out three folded squares of paper, which each of her friends dutifully attached to their presents.

Mickey surveyed the room a moment later. “Okay, guys, is that everything?” he mused.

“You have the map?” Gloria asked, to which he nodded, patting his back pocket.

“And I have the envelope to give to Riley,” Stacy announced, wielding a large manila envelope with an ‘X’ on the front, along with Renee’s name.

“Great!” Gloria said again. “Why don’t we split up?” she suggested, switching gifts with the Kid. “You two hide those,” she directed, nodding to the Kid and Stacy, “and we’ll take care of these.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Mickey agreed, inordinately pleased that she volunteered to accompany him instead of one of the younger kids. He’d very much enjoyed their time together working on the treasure map, and was reluctant to see it end. 

It seemed like maybe she was, too.

The two set off in the opposite direction of the others, stopping first just outside the Garage, where they decided to hide their first gift.

“Up there,” Gloria nodded, pointing to the light overhead that illuminated the street. “Is there a ladder anywhere?”

“I think so…” Mickey’s words trailed into oblivion as he slipped back inside the Garage, hunting for one of his dad’s old ladders. He found it and dragged it outside, holding it steady as Gloria climbed up and attached the gift. It was all he could do to keep his eyes trained forward, resisting the temptation to stare at her long, toned legs instead.

“Thanks,” she breathed as she clambered down the steps.

“Mmhm,” he murmured, feeling a flush creeping up the back of his neck as he quickly stowed the ladder away. He emerged into the dusk once more, regarding her with a bit of curiosity. “So did you decide where to hide the fourth and final gift?” he asked.

She nodded, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. “Yes,” she answered definitively. “Your locker.”

He froze. “My locker?” he echoed. “You mean – my _school_ locker?” _Please, say no_ , he pleaded silently. _It’s such a mess, I’d be so embarrassed if you saw it!_ She was always so tidy and pulled together that he felt a bit ashamed to be such a slob by comparison. So far, he’d been successful in keeping her from seeing the sorry state of his personal housekeeping, and he’d give anything to keep it that way.

“Of course, silly,” she replied, oblivious to the way she shattered his unspoken request. She cradled the final gift – Renee’s first doll, wrapped in an old checkered picnic blanket – in her arms as she gazed at him, her expression playful.

“But – why?” he sputtered, grasping for any reason to deter her from this quest. “I mean – why not _your_ locker?”

“Why not _yours_?” she countered. “C’mon, Mickey, be a sport! I’ve already written the clue that leads us there, and it’s too late to change it. It’s already attached to the gift that Stacy’s hiding,” she added pointedly.

 _Dammit_ , he thought with a wince. “Oh, all right,” he relented, heaving a heavy sigh. “If we have to.”

“Yes, we do,” she teased, impulsively wrapping her hand around his arm and prodding him forward. “Let’s go!”

Her touch soothed his embarrassment a little bit; it mollified him even further when she didn’t let him go during their trek to the school. Luck ended up being on his side after all, as all of the entrances to the building were locked – but he didn’t get out of it completely, not when she reminded him that his gym locker was outside, and thus, still accessible.

 _At least this one isn’t as big a mess as the other one_ , he thought to himself as he peered into the darkness, turning the combination lock with practiced ease. No sooner had he slipped the lock from its place than she wrested open the doors – only to yelp as she was forced to take a step back by the mountain of junk that spilled out of it.

He simply looked at her for a long moment, unsure of how she’d react, feeling another traitorous blush burnishing the nape of his neck and rising to color his cheeks. He was suddenly quite thankful that it was so late at night – he’d _die_ if she could see him now, the color of a ripe tomato.

Not that she was even looking in his direction – instead, she stared down at the mess at her feet and chuckled. “Well, at least it won’t be difficult to hide the present,” she quipped, tucking the doll in the back corner of his locker. He knelt down beside her as she started shoveling his stuff back inside, trying to pick up the grosser stuff so she wouldn’t have to touch it. Mercifully, they worked in silence; he could feel the color receding from his face when no further gentle taunts met his ears.

They rose to stand once they’d finished with the last of it; Mickey was so busy making sure nothing else would fall out that he didn’t realize she’d taken notice of the pictures he’d tacked up inside the door until it was too late.

“Looks like you have some treasures of your own in here,” she joked, angling the door open so that it would catch the light from a nearby streetlamp, giving her a better view.

He didn’t say a word, still thanking every deity he could think of that the school building was locked, keeping the picture of her that he’d taped inside his locker there still safely a secret.

“Which one of them do you like the most?” she asked, abruptly bringing him back to the present.

He blinked, not entirely sure he’d heard her correctly. “W-what?”

She held up a neatly folded square of paper. “It’d be the perfect place to hide the final clue,” she teased him sweetly. “On the back of your favorite picture.”

His gratefulness that they were standing at his gym locker instead of his regular locker soared even higher. “Oh. Well, give it to Brooke,” he decided, pointing to the pinup of Brooke Shields that he kept at eye level.

She giggled as she carefully pulled the photo off the door of his locker, turning it around to tape the clue to the back. She pressed it into place again. “You need some fresh gum soon, I think,” she observed with a hidden smile. “I’m not sure how long Brooke will hang on with this old stuff.”

“Long enough,” he muttered in response, reaching around her to close the doors and slide the lock back into place.

They stood together in awkward silence for a long moment, Gloria’s eyes trained to the ground, while Mickey gazed at her. He’d managed to survive the embarrassment of her getting an eyeful of his locker, and she’d satisfied her curiosity without mocking him mercilessly. All in all, he considered it a net win.

“Do you still have the treasure map?” she asked softly, breaking the stillness of the air.

“Yeah,” he replied, just as quietly, reaching into his pocket and drawing it out. He turned it over in his hands. “I’ll be sure to give it to Riley tomorrow morning, so he can have it ready by our afternoon concert.”

“Good,” she murmured with a nod, her eyes rising to meet his.

His mouth went dry. “Speaking of the map,” he croaked out, pushing a pool of saliva back to coat his throat. “Um, it was a lot of fun working on it with you during lunch. Even though it’s finished – do you think that we could still sit together in the cafeteria?”

“Why, Mickey,” she replied grandly, granting him a teasing smile as she rocked back on her heels, “are you asking me to have lunch with you tomorrow?”

He narrowed his eyes imperceptibly as he studied her, half hidden by the encroaching shadows. “Yeah, I guess I am,” he replied, tucking the map back into his pocket. “So what do you say?”

His heart skipped a beat when she took a step towards him, her hand finding his arm, her fingers sliding down to meet his, igniting a spark of electric heat. “Yes,” she replied softly, cupping his palm into hers. “I’d love to.”


	4. Love Somebody

**IV.  
 _Love Somebody_**

From the minute the band began to plan that performance, he’d known that it would be the perfect moment to make his move – he just wished that it didn’t have to be _this_ move.

Mickey could’ve kissed Renee for the idea. She and Stacy had rented _Grease_ with their family one warm spring weekend, and both of them had completely fallen in love with it. They’d shown up to rehearsal the following Monday, still full of enchantment, with Renee suggesting that Kids Incorporated perform a selection of numbers from the popular musical. Everyone had immediately jumped on the idea, all of them craving a novel concert after weeks and weeks of the same old thing. They’d ultimately decided to make a big production out of it, scheduling it for the last Friday of the school year as a kickoff to summer.

The band worked on it for a solid month – and Mickey worked on gathering the courage to tell Gloria just how much she’d come to mean to him. He couldn’t deny the way he felt about her any longer, but he wanted the moment that he confessed his feelings to be perfect. She deserved nothing less, in his estimation: an amazing moment for an amazing person.

It turned out to be more than he could’ve hoped for, even better than he dreamed it would be. The concert was flawless, every member of Kids Incorporated at the top of their game as they sang and danced their way through the famous musical. The atmosphere on stage was truly electrifying as they worked up to that final song – “You’re the One That I Want.” It was his moment, and Gloria’s, and never before had he been so acutely aware of the meaning of the words he sang.

It was the moment that he’d wanted – but now, knowing what he knew, it felt bitter instead of sweet.

The roar of the crowd still filled his ears as he lowered his microphone, leading the band in a bow before taking a step closer to Gloria and reaching for her hand. “Gloria,” he murmured, drawing her attention, “could I speak with you? Alone?”

Her eyes searched his for a long moment. “Sure, Mickey,” she finally replied, giving his hand a squeeze.

They left without taking another bow, leaving their fellow bandmates to soak up the glory and ovations from the crowd. Instead, they wove their way off stage, stopping only to put down their microphones in the wings before continuing on through the backstage door, their hands entwined all the while. 

It was almost a relief for him to step outside into the cool night air, the sun already low in the sky, its amber rays reflected against the side wall of the P*lace. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, concentrating on the weight and warmth of her hand in his, the softness of her skin as her arm brushed against his, the sweetness of her scent, even after a long performance under the hot stage lights.

“Gloria,” he finally said, breaking the stillness of the air, “I have to tell you something, and – ” 

“I know, Mickey,” she interrupted quietly. “And I think I know what it is.”

He opened his eyes and turned to her, his heart sinking. “You do?”

She nodded, pulling away from him, clasping her hands in front of herself as she moved a few paces ahead of him. “I know I’ve always said that I don’t mix singing and dating, but…” She paused, color rising to fill her cheeks. “I’m willing to make an exception for you.”

Mickey swallowed hard as he stared at her back. He never thought that hearing those words would actually _hurt_. “What?” he choked out, almost hoping against hope that he’d heard her incorrectly.

She turned slightly, standing in profile to him, a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “I really like you, Mickey, and I think that you like me, too. As _more_ than just a friend.” She pivoted to face him fully, lifting her eyes to his. “Isn’t that what you wanted to tell me?”

 _Yes_ , he wanted to scream, _I love you_ , but the words lodged in his throat, choking away his air. The look on his face must’ve been horrific, for her hopeful expression fell as she gazed at him.

“Oh, God,” she whispered, taking a step back, covering her face with her hands. “That wasn’t it, was it?”

Finally, he found his feet. “Yes – I mean, no – I mean – ” he sputtered, reaching out for her. “Gloria, you aren’t wrong.” He touched her shoulder. “I _do_ like you – as more than just a friend,” he added, borrowing her phrase. “This last year with you and the band has been the absolute _best_ – and you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say what you just said.”

Her hands fell away from her face, but still, she couldn’t meet his gaze. “But?” she prompted, a trace of dread in her tone.

“But…” he sighed, knowing no other way to say it, other than just straight out. “I’m moving.”

She exhaled sharply. “W-what?!” she whispered.

“I’m moving,” Mickey repeated, the words somehow even harder to get out the second time around. “My family is moving. To Connecticut.”

For a moment, she simply looked stunned, her eyes wide and unfocused as she absorbed his words. “No,” she breathed, stumbling away from him. “This isn’t true. This _can’t_ be true.”

Her words speared him. “Gloria – ”

“Tell me you’re lying,” she interrupted, lifting a wide, pleading gaze to him. “Just like when you told me about Chris and Danny – !”

He reached for her again, clasping her shoulder, as if to anchor her back to the ground, to reality. “I’m sorry,” he said in a low tone, shaking his head. His fingers curled into the fabric of her shirt. “Please, don’t make me say it again.”

Her breath was ragged in her chest as stood there, letting his words sink in. She looked away from him, her expression a mixture of shock and sadness and disbelief. “When?” she choked out.

He gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. “In six weeks,” he said quietly. “Right after the fourth of July.”

“Oh.” She crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze still pinned to the sidewalk. “Have you told anyone else yet?”

He grasped her other shoulder, bracing her with both hands, not wanting her to turn away from him. “No,” he murmured. “I wanted you to be the first to know.” He gazed at her, feeling desperate and helpless. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you,” he confessed.

She sniffled. “You’ll survive,” she informed him in a wavering voice.

 _Please, don’t cry_ , he pleaded silently, tightening his hold on her. “Gloria…” he tried.

Tears spilled over her cheeks. “What are we going to _do_ , Mickey?” she cried, lifting her eyes to meet his. “What am _I_ going to do – without you?”

An overwhelming tide of sadness flooded though him as he watched her cry, feeling her anguish in every fiber of his being. “I don’t know,” he admitted despairingly, tears prickling behind his own eyes. “You mean so much to me…and the band…” He swallowed hard around the lump that had risen in the back of his throat. “ _You’re_ what made Kids Incorporated work – _you’re_ the reason we succeeded. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you – without _any_ of you…”

Her arms circled his waist as she closed the gap between them, burying her face in his shoulder. She sobbed as she clung to him, so he did the only thing he could think of – he held her close, wrapping his arms securely around her shoulders, and tried to stay calm, to let her cry enough for the both of them. He closed his eyes, burying his nose in her hair, and concentrated on keeping his breathing steady and relaxed, even though he could feel his heart beating just as fast as hers.

 _Why does it have to be like this?_ he wondered sadly, his hands drifting into her hair. _Why did I wait so long to tell her how I felt? Why was I afraid?_ It was hard not to think of all the good times they could’ve shared, if only their moment could’ve happened sooner – before the end of the school year, before his dad accepted a job two states away, before his parents dropped the bombshell that they were moving, forcing him to leave the only neighborhood he’d ever known, the only friends he’d ever had…the only girl he’d ever loved.

“It isn’t fair,” he muttered, feeling his latent anger and frustration with the situation bubble up all over again. He’d had the fight to end all fights with his parents when they’d informed him of the move, and he still wasn’t really speaking to them. Instead, he’d thrown himself into studying for finals, preparing for this concert…and this moment.

This moment he wanted to be so perfect, but which had instead ended in tears.

Gloria sniffled against his shoulder. “No, but it’s all we have,” she replied, surprising him; he didn’t think that she’d heard his dark remark. She drew away from him, lifting her hands to wipe away the remnants of her tears. “So we have to find a way to deal with it.”

He didn’t let her go – he _couldn’t_ let her go, not completely. “Do you have any suggestions?” he asked despondently, his shoulders tugging down in a helpless shrug as he gazed at her.

Her eyes found his. “Just that we make the most of the time we have left,” she murmured, summoning a brave, if forced, smile.

~*~

Though he might have expected to the contrary, breaking the awful news to the band hadn’t been any easier than telling Gloria had been.

He told them at their very next rehearsal, the first Monday afternoon of summer vacation. He’d taken the weekend to pull himself together, and to ponder Gloria’s almost cryptic statement. He didn’t really know what she meant, but he knew her well enough to know she wasn’t one to talk in empty platitudes. Even worse, he felt like their relationship was in limbo – what use was it to admit feelings that couldn’t be acted upon?

Still, he was grateful that she didn’t shrink away from him when he arrived at the Garage that afternoon. Instead, she’d stuck firmly to his side as they watched the others trickle in, one by one, all of them relaxed and chatty and excited for summer. He hated the idea of ruining their collective happiness, but he knew he had to – so he told them.

His announcement, unsurprisingly, was met with stunned silence.

The Kid was the first to speak. “You’re kidding, right?” he asked suspiciously. “Please, tell us this is all just a joke!”

From the corner of his eye, Mickey saw Gloria bow her head.

“Some joke,” Renee snorted derisively, folding her arms across her chest. “With Mickey gone…”

“But you _can’t_ leave!” Stacy burst out, bounding up from her place on the floor and throwing her arms around Mickey’s shoulders. “You just _can’t_.”

“I don’t want to go,” Mickey assured them as Stacy curled into his lap. “But what choice do I have?”

An idea suddenly lit up the Kid’s features. “I know! You can stay here,” he suggested. “By yourself – you could live in the Garage!” he expounded, throwing his arms open and gesturing at the cavernous space.

Mickey and Gloria exchanged a look. “I don’t think so, Kid,” she replied gently. “His family would miss him.”

The Kid cocked his head. “But _we_ wouldn’t,” he mused with a shrug, as if the logic of his scheme was patently obvious.

“Yeah,” Renee sighed glumly. “What’s going to happen to us? Where will we practice?”

“Maybe whoever buys the Garage from Mickey’s dad will let us stay,” Mario put in hopefully from his seat behind the drum kit. Aaron and Shanice, sitting nearby, nodded in agreement.

“Maybe,” Gloria hedged. “But just in case – I asked Riley about the old storeroom at the P*lace, and he said it was okay with him if we used it as a practice space.”

Stacy peered at the others from Mickey’s lap. “But can we still be Kids Incorporated without Mickey?” she asked in a small voice. She looked up at him. “You’re the one who started the band.”

Mickey’s heart skipped a beat as he contemplated her question. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to hear how the others were planning to carry on in his absence. A tiny, selfish part of him _did_ want the band to break up, but another, larger part of him wanted them to continue on. They’d already put so much work into the group that it would be a shame for it to cease existence just because his parents had decided to yank up their roots and drag him two states away.

He still hadn’t made up with them. Not completely.

“What do you say, Mick?” Gloria murmured, bringing him back to the present, drawing his attention to her.

They held each other’s gaze for a long moment. “Kids Incorporated isn’t _my_ band,” he finally replied, turning to look at each of his erstwhile bandmates in turn. “It’s _your_ band – and I want you guys to continue to be Kids Inc, even after I’m gone.”

Glum silence reigned in the wake of his pronouncement. 

“But he’s not gone just yet,” Gloria said, touching his arm as she gazed at the long faces surrounding them. “We still have six weeks together, and I say that we make them the best six weeks _ever_.” She stood, granting them all a cheerful smile. “Let’s play our favorite songs! Let’s put on the best shows we possibly can!” she urged, fisting her hand and pumping it in the air. “Let’s _rock_ the P*lace, in Mickey’s honor!”

“Yeah!” cheered Mario, raising a drumstick in solidarity.

“Yeah!” echoed Aaron and Shanice, bouncing to their feet.

Renee and the Kid exchanged a skeptical look.

“Come on, you guys,” Gloria cajoled, kneeling between them and draping her arms around their shoulders. “This isn’t a time to be sad. We’re still together! We can still do fun things, and we will.”

“Yeah, Stace,” Mickey piped up, giving her a little hug. “Let’s make the most of the time we have left!”

His eyes rose to meet Gloria’s, and they shared a knowing smile.

Stacy squinted up at him. “You mean it?” she inquired somberly, curling her arms around him again.

He gave her a sardonic look. “You’re not going to get rid of me _that_ easily,” he replied loftily, setting her on her feet as he rose from his seat. “This is still a rehearsal, you guys, and we still have a show to work on.”

Renee and the Kid, still looking wary, stood up as well, with Gloria rising to her full height between them. “That’s right,” she chirped cheerfully. “Just because its summer doesn’t mean we can slack off.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” the Kid finally relented, reaching for a tambourine and giving it an experimental shake. “Where should we begin?”

~*~

Six weeks was mercilessly too short, as he knew it would be. It flew by way too fast.

Still, Mickey was grateful that his friends persevered, keeping him – and themselves – in good spirits for what little time they had left together. Kids Incorporated continued to work hard and play hard, just as they always had. They held a special dance contest at the P*lace, and even had a week-long concert series on the Diamond Park boardwalk.

Two days after that last performance on the beach was the day he was to move.

“I think that’s everything,” he announced, shoving one final box into the moving van parked just outside his building. He took a couple steps back, brushing the dust from his hands as the moving men hustled forward to make sure everything was secure before they closed the truck.

He turned, looking up to see his friends huddled together on the stoop, watching him with sad eyes and glum expressions. They all looked even more depressed than they had the day he broke the news at rehearsal. It was as if it had just hit them, collectively, that these were their last moments together.

“Hey, guys,” he called to them, climbing the steps. “C’mon, why the long faces?”

The Kid shrugged, resting his chin in his hand. “We’re gonna miss you, is all,” he sighed. “Are you _sure_ you have to go?”

Mickey smiled wryly. “I’m sure,” he replied. He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “All my stuff’s already in the van.”

His parents appeared just then, pressing through the heavy outer door of the apartment building. They exchanged a long look before sidestepping the band, who were sprawled out across the landing. “Come on, son,” his father said quietly, patting Mickey’s shoulder. “We need to get on the road if we want to get there before nightfall.”

Mickey nodded. “Okay, Dad,” he returned somberly. “Just – let me say goodbye to my friends?”

“Of course, dear,” his mother murmured, offering an empathetic smile as she hooked her arm through her husband’s. The two of them continued down the steps to the car they’d rented for the journey. Mickey had managed to make peace with his parents the night before, accepting the move for what it was, though he’d made it crystal clear that he still wasn’t happy about it.

Mickey turned to face his friends, suddenly feeling at a loss for words. “Well, guys,” he said solemnly, “I guess this is it.”

Renee, Stacy, and the Kid immediately rose from their seats, moving as one as they tackled Mickey in a haphazard group hug. “We’re really going to miss you,” Stacy informed him tearfully.

“It won’t be the same without you,” Renee acknowledged, her words muffled into his side.

“But we did get you a gift,” the Kid added impishly, wiggling out of the girls’ hold. “So you wouldn’t forget us.” He glanced over at Gloria, who was still seated on the landing, lost in thought. “Hey, Gloria, where did you put it?”

His question seemed to bring her out of her reverie. “Oh,” she mumbled, scrambling to her feet. “I – I think I left it inside.”

“I’ll come with you,” Mickey offered quickly, seizing the opportunity to have a moment alone with her. Before the others could protest, he swept forward, ushering Gloria inside before following her, pulling the heavy door back into its frame. He wanted the chance to say goodbye to her privately, without the others around.

She seemed to want the same thing.

She took his hand, leading him beyond the foyer but not into the building’s lobby, stopping instead in the little alcove between. She reached behind a potted plant, bringing a small wrapped package out into the open. “From all of us,” she murmured, pressing the gift into his free hand.

“Thanks,” he replied, accepting the present without looking at it. He gazed at her instead, his eyes tracing the lines of her features as he continued to hold her hand. They hadn’t really spoken about their feelings for each other, or the status of their relationship, since that disastrous evening after the concert. He’d tried to give her some space in the aftermath – she was the one who’d laid it all on the line, albeit before he had the chance to – but he couldn’t leave without knowing for sure just what it was that still brewed between them.

“Gloria, – ” he started, only to have her interrupt him.

“Don’t say it,” she broke in, wrapping her arms around his waist.

He shook his head as he returned the fervent embrace in kind, drawing her close. “I can’t leave it like this,” he said softly. “I – I still have feelings for you.”

She nodded against his shoulder. “I know.”

He swallowed hard, tightening the brace of his arms around her. “And you?” he whispered, not quite brave enough to look at her.

His heart skipped a beat when he felt her hand on his neck, her fingers sliding back into his hair. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to meet his, tears welling behind her chocolate-brown eyes. “I am going to miss you so much,” she replied, gently tilting his head down as she lifted hers up, her lips finding his in a searing, breath-stealing kiss.

For once, he knew how to react – his hands drifted up the planes of her back, clasping her shoulders and holding her close as that kiss cascaded into another, and another. He could feel her heart racing against his, beating furiously in time as fiery need burned between them. He held her for as long as he dared, not willing to move or change or even _breathe_ if it meant having to let go of her.

It was their perfect moment, and he never wanted it to end.

But it had to.

She drew away from him, her breath heavy in her chest. “I’ll never forget you, Mickey,” she vowed, “and I’ll never forget how I feel about you.”

Mickey struggled to pull himself out of the spiraling haze of heat and desire, to discern the note of finality in her tone. “Why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye to me?” he asked warily.

Tears spilled over her cheeks. “Because I am,” she murmured in reply. She stepped back into the hallway. “What else is left to say?”

“That we can call,” he offered desperately, “or write, or – ”

“We’ll always be friends, Mickey. That will never change,” she assured him. “And maybe, one day…”

He took her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. “Definitely, one day,” he promised her, giving her a squeeze, sparking another current of electricity between them.

She simply nodded, and smiled, wiping away her tears one last time, before they joined their friends outside once more.


End file.
